


Past Years

by AriGrey



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Ballet Dancer Victor Nikiforov, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Child Neglect, F/F, F/M, Family Drama, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, I'm Bad At Summaries, Ice Skating, Long-Haired Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags Are Hard, Young Victor Nikiforov
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 07:23:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17914385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AriGrey/pseuds/AriGrey
Summary: Hello! Welcome to my first work of many.This is a YOI mainly based around Viktor growing, starting at 12 up until who knows what. None of this is canon (besides the characters and things like that).I introduced a new character, I wouldn't call her an OC because this is probably the only time she will be introduced. I have edited this since the original publishing, so if the chapter seems different that is why.I'm not sure how long this will go, i really like the ideas i have but im not completly sure how it will be portrayed in writing.





	1. Chapter 1 - The Interview

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Welcome to my first work of many.  
> This is a YOI mainly based around Viktor growing, starting at 12 up until who knows what. None of this is canon (besides the characters and things like that).   
> I introduced a new character, I wouldn't call her an OC because this is probably the only time she will be introduced. I have edited this since the original publishing, so if the chapter seems different that is why.  
> I'm not sure how long this will go, i really like the ideas i have but im not completly sure how it will be portrayed in writing.

_The door slammed. It was normal._

_The sounds of books being packed. Clothes folded. Lights shutting off. All painfully normal._

_His parents left weekly. Trips around Europe, around Asia, around the Americas. But yet, he was never taken. He was too expensive, his weekly ballet, figure skating lessons, and biweekly music lessons cost well into the thousands when you dealt with professionals. But he understood the costs, the money, the time spent by his parents to support him in any way possible._

_So he left his house, saying his last few goodbyes to his parents. Off to the rest of his life he went._

 

Viktor was usually a serious soul. Besides when he had to make an impression, and an impression is what he would make.

The Paris Opera Ballet School was regarded as one of the top ballet schools in the world. Career changing in fact. Women and men from children to young adult gave their whole lives to the school. The endless hours, the countless performances, and the stage. That was where he wanted to stay forever. Within the lights and in the eyes of people there to see  _him_ _._ Fans, as they were so called.

But first the performance... And the interview.

"What interests in in joining the Paris Opera Ballet School, Mr. Nikiforov," the faceless interviewer asked. Viktor hadn't bothered to memorize any of the man's features, not deeming him important enough. He wasn't an official, he was just here to take his basic statements to make sure he was  _worthy_ enough to even be seen. 'As always,' Viktor thought to himself.

"I want to show my talent, to prove the Russians do it best," Viktor said with thickly accented English. Yakov elbowed him in the side. "Sir," Viktor added as an afterthought. Viktor could sense Yakov's internal facepalm.

"Don't gloat about your home country Vitya, keep it professional," His coach silently reprimanded back in their mother-language. The interviewer took the opportunity to write a quick note.

Viktor tried to get a peak, but the plentiful amount of books blocked his view. Viktor wished for the day he would finally grow. Fifty-eight inches was not the best height to be at. Especially for a boy starting the seventh grade in the upcoming season.

"What of your parent's words, Mr. Nikiforov," The man asked. Finishing up notes that Viktor was itching to read.

"Yakov is my legal guardian, he will sign any forms and get the funding if necessary. I have money from blood relatives saved specifically for my education in the arts," Viktor said, with a sigh following. Not a sigh to the interviewer, well, not mostly.

The interviewer gave a hum as he wrote another note. Viktor glanced at Yakov. Yakov's expression was neutral. He let out a breath that he wasn't aware he was holding.

Yakov's expression only strayed from neutral when something was wrong. When Viktor would flub a jump, or misinterpret a program he could always tell by how Yakov would look at him. Viktor couldn't quite describe the look he was given, but it was something that Viktor had learned to fear. Only the worst came from that look.

The interviewer went through more routine questions. _How long have you been dancing? What institutes? What is your education level? Would schooling need to be provided?..._

Viktor swore that the questions went on for hours. He had been asked them numerous times before, taking the fun out of the whole process. Why was the process to dance so strenuous? Well, the question was easily answered.

But Viktor silently blessed whichever god watched over him when the interviewer stood and shook his hand. He flashed his perfect picture smile, and showed the man out. He waved a final goodbye before hastily slamming the door. He silently thanked the warmth that came flooding back into his system and he sashayed down the halls. 

He passed many dancers and skaters that watched him quietly as he practically sprinted down the halls. Which this wasn't an unusual sight. Viktor was known as energetic and clumsy. Any of the professionals in the building could recite the plentiful times he had fallen in a rush of excitement. Most of his bruises weren't from the ice, but from his falls off of the ice (which had been proven more common).

He only stopped when he felt a  _yank_ on his hair. His hands instantly flew up to head to try to pull away the greedy hands.

"Viktor~~ How did the interview go? I heard it was a big fancy ballet school, you're going to make Georgi and I jealous!" Galina cheerfully pronounced.

Viktor winced as her grip became tighter. He smacked her hand causing her to laugh, before he quickly spun and kicked her shin. She was roughly his height, slightly shorter, but barely noticeable. He would've kicked higher but that was most likely frowned upon when kicking a girl. But that didn't stop him from rolling his eyes at her.

"It was fine, Gali," he said while combing his fingers through his hair. Knotted hair was always a pain, especially when your hair was waist long like his own. "Its The Paris Opera Ballet School, people like Georgi should be blessed to even be this far in the arts career." Viktor didn't  _dislike_ Georgi, he was just deemed remarkably unprofessional in his eyes.

"Oh, ouch. Some of us aren't as fortunate to be naturally talented like you," she sighed with spite.

"I'm not a natural, I just try and don't let foolish things _like_ significant others get in my way. Georgi could be the best here, he surely has been here long enough, but he's not as focused as he should be. If you don't dedicate your whole life to the arts then you'll fall, and it will be quick too," Viktor monologued. He watched Gali's expression change from concern, to understanding, to back to concern.

"Such morbid thoughts from such a young boy," She sighed while brushing Viktor's hair out of his face. Readjusting his hair.

Viktor was always startled when she touched him. She was a very touchy-touchy person, sisterly as some would call it. Nothing too much, but hair was always a no-zone. 

He patted her hands away again before sighing. "I'm not a morbid person, just factual. Also do not call me young, you are only a year older than I am.  _And_ I'll be thirteen in December, that's how old you are," he argued.

"And then I'll be fourteen the day after you turn thirteen, so it doesn't really matter much," She said with a laugh tinting her words.

"You're just upset because the only thing you can beat me in is age," Viktor said with a smirk only an arrogant child could make.

Galina shrugged with her hands up,"I guess you're right, I'm not the one that just had an interview with a high-end ballet school." She ended her statement with a wink before turning back to Viktor.

She wrapped him in a hug while burying her face in his neck. Viktor wasn't prepared for it, he had to remind himself to relax before he could wrap his arms around her.

"I truly am proud of you, младший брат. Just remember us peasant folk when you're out in the world being the amazing dancer that you are," she said with complete sincerity. Viktor had to fight away the burning sensation from behind his eyes.

"Lets just hope I make it," he said with a weak laugh. Mila started laughing along with him. Her cacophonous laugh shook his whole body. She pushed him away, holding him at arms length before leaning in to kiss his cheek.

"At least you have a chance in comedy, yet another field that the great Viktor Nikiforov is perfect at," She said with a smile on her face. 

"I pray to every god that it won't come to that," He said while retying his hair. Even though it was a joke, the pain of losing was too real. Viktor had put in too many hours and lost too many people to fall now. He wasn't Icarus, he was tactical. The sun wasn't tempting, not when the land was near.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The audition is a go! Possible new friends and foes are on the horizon, lets see where this party bus takes us!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome back, this is just a smol little chapter that is basically going to be a little base for oncoming chapters. Even though this seems like a very weird and random chapter, it does have some very hidden details and hints on what's to come.  
> Also, I apologize for being AWOL for so long. I just got back from a week long school trip out of state, and right before it I had too many exams and it was hella stressful.  
> But now I am back and feeling super excited to write some more!!

_He_ _walked_ _the steps he had dozens of times before. Every time they left he came here, his ~~second~~ home._

_He didn't keep track how often he showed up on his teachers door step. Nor did he keep track of how long he stayed._

_Yakov had certainly became more of a father to him than his own. He was always there for his training, his meltdowns, his nightmares, and so much more that Viktor knew he would never be able to repay Yakov for._

_After a while, he found himself missing Yakov when his parents were home. His calm demeanor was vastly different from his parents high-end energy. The bustling and boisterous changes were constant with his parents present. Plans always changing last minute, even though it clashed with his world._

_Training was a precise science, one day could knock him off track for months. One changed plan could easily destroy his fortress that he painfully built over months and years._

_But Viktor understood everything they did. It was all for him. Their trips and money were for_ him.  _The sleepless nights filled with worry over his parents that were only returned with more neglect. None of his letters were returned when they were gone for longer than expected. And when they did come back he wasn't given a word. But his parents needed rest and he knew that, he would be able to talk with them after they had rested._

_But when he would awake, they were always gone again. And he was always back on Yakov's front porch._

 

The day of auditions came, thankfully he had been accepted. (Even if Yakov said he needed to work on his interview skills).

Preparations for auditions always lasted hours. First came the  _physical_ aspects. Uniform, hair, and makeup were the easiest, and easiest part of auditions. Although most auditions followed a strict dress code, slight blush and a clean, slicked ponytail never hurt anyone. Quickly following the joys of dress, came the dread of traveling. The planning with airlines and hotels for just a few life-changing hours, that often proved fruitless, was as much infuriating as expensive. On the upside, Moscow was only an hour and a half away via plane. Although Aeroflot would inevitably be late, expanding the time by hours at the least. This did allow much time for the mental preparation however. Mental preparation, being the most extensive part of the journey, was the most important. A bad mental day could break anyone under any circumstance. The lack of focus could the determinative when learning combos or new step sequences. A sudden rush of emotion could ruin the emotional balance of a dance, throwing anyone watching it for a loop. And even with Viktor being confident with his skill, it didn't mean that stress and anxiety was a stranger. The fear of not being enough and failing often clouded his known strengths. The sinking feeling in his stomach that was often nausea inducing, never went away if he let it manifest. It was debilitating more often than not, forcing him to run and calm himself before a full panic attack was induced. But the show must  _always_ go on.

Music was the key to distraction, its rhythmic constant beats could always calm Viktor's racing heart at anytime. It was a trick he learned from Yakov. He was introduced to it during his first year of competitive skating, when he was brighteyed and less than double digits. It was just a local competition for nine to twelve year olds, but stressful enough for the nine year old Viktor who had been comparing himself to the "top dogs." Viktor breathed deeply while he replayed the same song for the third time, slowly starting to calm himself. The music blasting in his ears was a classic piano piece from the romance era, Chopin's Winter Wind. It wasn't the most peaceful song choice, but it was a familiar one. 

He was snapped out of his reprieve when a hand shook his shoulder. Viktor glanced up to find his coach. Yakov was often the only one that traveled with him. Sometimes Georgi or Galina would tag along, on rare cases a choreographer would also accompany them. 

"Start preparing for your audition, they're clearing the room," His coach said with his usual stale tone.

When Viktor looked up he noticed the clearing of the room he's been standing in front of. Kids of younger ages were in the room before, possibly auditioning for the younger age group for the School. Viktor took out his earphones before tucking them in his bag along with his phone. He picked up the bag and hung it over his shoulder, feeling the comforting weight pull on the right side of his body.

"Remember the breathe, this audition isn't the make or break of your career. You are still young, Vitya," Yakov said sensing Viktor's distress.

Viktor pulled on his hair as his eyes skimmed the windows looking in to his and the twenty odd other boys auditioning room. Finally looking into the room as it emptied made everything became much realer than before. Any minute he would be entering that room to compete for a place in one of the top ballet schools in the world. He would either succeed or fail. There were no remakes or retries after this. As soon as he stepped in that room it was--

"Stop overthinking everything, Vitya!" Yakov whispered slightly louder than normal to grab his attention. Viktor turned to look at him. "Just go in there and be the rebellious boy you are, I'm surprised you even looked at me. Your track record of listening isn't the brightest," Yakov reprimanded.

Viktor had a feeling that Yakov was just making conversation to keep him distracted. Yakov never showed affection in the usual ways one would expect. He wasn't big on touches (besides when Viktor forced him into a hug). And usually showed affection through the ways he treated others. Even now that Yakov was his legal guardian, Yakov still treated Viktor like a student at all hours. It was comforting to know that nothing would ever change.

"I'm fine Coach, I'm just a little stressed for this," Viktor said with a sigh. Fighting off the curling nausea in his stomach.

"Is that why you repeated the same song three times?" Yakov asked as a rhetorical question.

That was another way Yakov showed affection, by keen notice to details. Viktor opened his mouth to reply as the door to  _The Room_ opened.

 

 

He was grouped with other boys from ten to fifteen. Everyone wearing the matching uniform of black tights and a plain white V-neck. Then only thing that was different was Viktor's startling silver hair and crystal blue eyes (which he had often been accused of dying his hair or wearing contacts). Viktor has accounted for at least 20 men (or boys) in his division. The school had stated that they were only taking 3 from his age group, so the odds were tight. 

Viktor had already started physically evaluating his competitors as they all warmed up. Number eight was incredibly flexible in his hips, but it caused him to turn out too much. Especially on arabesques and basic positions. It became too forced when too much turnout was forced. You had to have the perfect in between blend. Meanwhile, Number twelve was too stiff in the hips and arms. A la secondes became too forced, losing the effortless glide. Although the rotations were effortless, the arms and legs became... sticks.

Viktor breathed a sigh, already beginning to go through his warm-up regimen. He slipped off his boots before grabbing his oldest pair of ballet slippers that still fit. He always wore the same slippers to auditions. They were perfectly worn out where he could get a perfect turn, but not slip without rosin. Perfect harmony was the key to success.

He adjusted his hair a final time before stepping towards the barre. The cool feel coursed through his body immediately before he started warming up his ankles, then hips, then legs. He hummed the various tunes that would pop through his head, anxiously waiting for the judges to file into the room. Even though the judges were standing where they were previously at, it still didn't official start until they came. Which apparently Viktor's psychic powers were proven true because they gleefully walked in the second after he thought.

He had truly  _never_ seen any judges so excited to do their job. Of course there were oddities, but not in this field. Auditions were week long events. Especially for a school of this caliber. More than likely, call-backs won't even begin until a week from now. And the chances of Viktor making it was getting slimmer by the _minute._

The first judge, a tall and slim women (clearly an ex-ballerina), called everyone to attention with a clap. "Welcome young Sirs to the beginning of your audition journey."

Viktor forced himself to keep from rolling his eyes. Auditions were  _journeys_ but the most stressful and high tension types. Backpacking in Europe with absolutely no equipment didn't even begin to border in the type of stress experienced. But of course the dancing and music was worth all the pain and stress.

"At the Paris Opera Ballet School only the top percentage of dancers is considered, and these auditions are to weave out those few people," the woman continued with a very pronounced accent. The man partnering her remained silent. "I know this speech has been told to you boys many times before. So shall we begin?" She asked in a questioning way. Even though everyone present knew that it wasn't.

Music churned out of the speaker set towards the front of the room as the woman walked away. Its long stringy cords with the common rises and falls of all classical era orchestral pieces. It was truly entrancing, Viktor thought of how it could lull a crying baby to peaceful slumber, or console the aching heart of a grown man. Music and its many expressions.

 Suddenly the formerly quiet mystery man of the room struck his hands together to start his inevitable speech.

 _Did all French people clap so often?,_ Viktor questioned himself in his head.

"I am Francis Belmont, please address me as Monsieur Belmont during our time together," Monsieur spoke. He flashed a smile that lightened his eyes. A genuine smile then,  _Why were they so excited?_ Viktor again questioned the universe.

"I have no doubt that this group will not fail to astonish. So for the next three hours, I am expecting full effort. This group was chosen by the Committee based on the prior experience and future goals each of you had expressed in the interviews."

So the interview was useful? Usually they never were ever brought up after everything was said and done (literally). Viktor made a mental note to thank Yakov for the lecture on why interviews _were_ important.

Belmont gave a chain of commands. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a very weak end but I am sure that ill rewrite it a few more million times in the near future,,,  
> Anyway, onto the next chapter!!
> 
> Also, all of Viktor's dance experiences are going to be based off of my own. Dance is an incredibly competitive art. Often relying on someone's looks more than talent. Dancer's crave uniformity, but it can change from studio to studio. Top Ballet schools are known for having people trained like warriors. Identical, tactical, overall brilliant in performance. While other schools crave diversity. Taking in people with the so called /It/ factor.
> 
> Any questions I am more than happy to answer! Dance and plot wise. If any of you want to make suggestions I can see what I can do. That isn't me agreeing to put everyone's suggestions in, I just want to see how everyone interprets the bois. Thank you for reading! Much love to you all!

**Author's Note:**

> Wow this was... Trash. But ill clean it up and party on!


End file.
